Jamaica's Hedonism Ii Proves You're Never Too Old

We stand on a foot-wide perch suspended two stories above the sand. A waist belt connects me to safety lines, and a net below promises even more security. Still, as I prepare for my first-ever trapeze act, one thought creaks through my mind -- I AM TOO OLD FOR THIS!

Playing dope on a rope is not what I envisioned doing at Hedonism II, perhaps the most infamous of Jamaica's beach-front resorts. With its motto "Be Wicked for a Week," the place maintains a lusty reputation as a year-round version of spring break for adults.

For years, I have fantasized about visiting this enclave of Dionysian delight. Now, on the cusp of AARP-hood and in the midst of a splendid midlife crisis, I am about to discover what a swinging good time at "Hedo" is all about.

Liz, who weighs less than my luggage, promises to counterbalance me as I lean out. Nervously, I tilt forward, clenching the trapeze bar tighter than a wino strangling a flask.

"Ready?" Martin, the instructor, yells from below. "HUP!"

I step from the platform and arc through the air, feeling like Disney's Dumbo. Following Martin's commands, I tuck my legs over the bar, lock knees and swing back, inverted. On the next oscillation, I regrasp the bar and somehow manage to backflip off.

Her generosity is underwhelming because at Hedo all beer, bar drinks, food, sports and diving are included with the price of accommodations. Even tipping is forbidden at this all-in-one-price resort.

"The concept of totally all-inclusive pricing began in Jamaica in the 1980s," says Donnie Dawson of the Jamaican Tourism Board. "Now, 35 percent of the island's hotel rooms are in properties where guests need not reach into their pockets for tips and bar tabs."

Most of Jamaica's all-inclusive resorts are designed to satisfy particular niche markets. Some feature romantic settings for couples only, others appeal to singles, and a few are for families. Hedonism II shamelessly caters to adults in the pursuit of pleasure. It's a place where one can go a week without flossing and not feel guilty about it.

The 280-room resort borders a stretch of sandy beach near Negril on the sunset tip of Jamaica, 55 miles west of Montego Bay. The grassy, 22-acre compound of guango trees and palms is divided into two sections with adjacent beaches. An open-sided dining hall, pool, disco and boat dock separate the two.

On one side, swimsuits, at least the bottom halves, are required of all. Known as the "Prude Beach," it features a volleyball court, snack shack and a funky bar built around a draping tree. We discover more of the younger singles prefer this side. They swizzle rum, soak up the sun and practice their pickup lines on mister or mizz right.

Folks who don't want to accidentally slop sunscreen on their swim suits choose the opposite side. The "Nude Beach" features a bar, grill, pool and perhaps Jamaica's largest hot tub. It tends to draw a more mature crowd of predominantly couples.

Most have their share of sags, cellulite, scars, wrinkles, folds, stretch marks, love handles and beer bellies, but nobody seems to care.

Every evening Hedo offers activities and entertainment. Our first night there, we attend a beach party.

Two teams compete in a series of games that allow us to embarrass ourselves in front of chortling spectators. We race paired in hula-hoops, pass ping-pong balls along in mouth-held cups and twist dizzily around obstacles. Surprisingly, I am not the oldest one participating.

Brochures for Hedo depict only buns-of-steel models who look like they burst from Soloflex advertorials. I feared that my wife and I might stand out like chaperones at a frat party. In reality, we discover that almost one-third of our fellow guests are age 45 or over.

Some of us older folks want to sleep late, but not my wife.

She rises early, eager to go sunbathing.

"Which beach are we going to?" I ask.

"You decide."

We grab belongings and walk through the grounds to the stretch of white sand that borders the cerulean sea. There, we smear on Coppertone and lie back, stark-raving naked beneath the Caribbean sun. It feels wickedly sensual.

After dinner that night, we take a moonlight stroll through the property. Music and laughter lure us into the piano bar.

People crowd the edge of a recessed baby grand, and scores more line the platform level above. Everyone holds a songbook. A raucous piano man pounds out melodies and the group sings along with gusto.

The next morning, we awaken to rain and heavy surf. Sunbathing out, we head for the hot tub and join a crowd of others in conversation and games of beach ball batting.

Other days we spend reading, relaxing, swimming and sunning.

One afternoon, my wife goes snorkeling. She joins a guided group that boats out to a reef near an island called Booby Cay.